Something Familiar
by Saturnian Dreamer
Summary: Goddard says the one thing a STARDOG should never say on a scouting mission: "What could go wrong?" (Eventual D/G - Rating may go up in later chapters)
1. Chapter 1

**Title** : Something Familiar: Chapter 1

 **Pairings** : Eventual Davenport/Goddard

 **Summary** : Goddard says the one thing a STARDOG should never say on a scouting mission: "What could go wrong?"

 **Note:** I don't own _Space Cases_. This story is set sometime after the events of season 2.

 **Something Familiar: Chapter 1**

When Commander Goddard called the crew down to the command post, they weren't sure what to expect at first. After all, they had already seen a lot on their journey. Earlier that day, Davenport had admonished Harlan for complaining about how bored he was. "You should consider yourself lucky," she countered. "And I shudder to think of what you feel an adventure really is if you do not count this as one."

Davenport was the last to arrive through the jumptubes, and her focus turned to the viewscreen where a lush planet was quickly approaching… Or rather the ship was approaching it.

"I noticed we were running a little low on supplies and food in the biosphere," Goddard explained, "so I thought we could stop here and replenish."

"Why's everyone looking at me?" Bova whined.

"We weren't until you said something," Harlan quipped. "Seriously, how much food can one person eat?"

"My metabolism is faster than an Earther's," Bova replied matter-of-factly. "I guess that's somehow my fault."

"Okay, people, calm down. Harlan, bring us in for a landing," Goddard instructed. "Then we'll have Suzee and Thelma test the atmosphere. Once we determine it's safe, we'll break into groups and scavenge for food, fuel, and anything else that we might be able to use onboard."

* * *

The landing wasn't as smooth as it could have been, but there was little damage to the ship. Suzee deemed the atmosphere suitable for the crew, and they headed out in groups: Harlan with Radu and Suzee, and Thelma with Bova and Rosie. Goddard and Davenport ventured off together as well.

"I do not like this, Commander," Davenport complained as she adjusted her spacepack. "Something does not feel right."

"You worry about everything. It'll be fine. What could go wrong?"

She swatted him on the shoulder. "Never say that! Never ever say that! You just jinxed us, you imbecile!"

He rolled his eyes. "We've already encountered Spung, old rivals, strangling vines, power-sucking parasites, doppelgangers, what Bova keeps calling 'that thing that almost ate Harlan…' "

"Yes! And as I told Harlan earlier, I shudder to think at what else is lurking around with which we haven't already become familiar," Davenport countered.

The two stopped in their tracks when they came to the entrance of a thickly wooded area. Goddard turned to Davenport and cocked his head to the side.

"No. Absolutely not," she protested. "I forbid you from going in there."

Goddard smirked. "You forbid me?"

"What could I say that would convince you to end this little expedition and return to the ship?"

Goddard looked at the data on his compupad. "If you don't want to go in, you don't have to. But our readings indicate that there's a quarry less than a kilometer in that direction that contains deutronium ore, and I'd like to replenish our supply." Davenport opened her mouth to protest but he stopped her with, "You don't want to get stranded in space, do you?" before heading into the woods on his own.

Davenport sulked for a few minutes before tentatively calling for the commander. When she received no answer, she swore under her breath and followed after him. A few minutes into her trek, a rustling from deeper inside the woods startled her.

"Commander?" she inquired.

Goddard's own swearing combined with what sounded like crumbling rock motivated her to venture further, awkwardly maneuvering around the trees and ducking under branches as she went. She doubled her pace, struggling to see what was in front of her in the brush as the sun set, hoping to make it to a clearing soon.

"Commander!" she called. "Comma…"

She let out a startled cry as she lost her footing and tumbled down the steep hillside, landing with a groan in the valley below. The wind had been knocked out of her, and she had to take a moment to cough and regain a normal breathing pattern. She looked to her left to find Goddard on the ground next to her, apparently having tumbled down moments before. She sat up slowly, testing to see if anything was broken. As far as she could tell, she was just sore from the fall, miraculously only having acquired a few scrapes from her frantic flailing on the way down.

"Commander, are you all right?" she asked.

He, too, sat up and tested himself for injury. "Think so," he answered. "You?"

"I'm fine."

"Heh. Found the quarry."

T.J. groaned. "But how do we get back up there? What did I tell you? I _knew_ something would go wrong. I knew it!"

"Hey, just calm down. That's an order."

Davenport scoffed at him, removed her space pack, and carefully stood up. "What gives you the right to order me around? Back at the Starcademy, I was your superior."

"Well we're not at the Starcademy anymore," Goddard fired back, discarding his pack as well. He brushed himself off and came to stand in front of her so they were now toe-to-toe. "And in case you've forgotten, you were fired from your job and no longer outrank me."

Davenport balked. "I beg your unbelievable pardon! Perhaps it has escaped your memory that you were stripped of your rank as well. You are no longer a captain. Maybe I should even stop calling you 'Commander' since you are in danger of being thrown out of the STARDOGS entirely. In fact, you will probably be headed straight to jail once we arrive back home. But you know all about jail, don't you? You and your extensive knowledge of prisons. 'Well read.' That's a laugh."

He gritted his teeth. "That was a low blow, Miss Davenport."

"No lower than the one you just gave me, _Mister_ Goddard."

"You're implying that I'm a criminal."

"Well you are one, aren't you? I have done research—"

"Of course, you have."

"And I know you spent some time in jail before the STARDOGS decided to put you under my supervision for your community service. Frankly, the thought of a criminal teaching my students disturbed me greatly. I'll have you know that I fought against it."

"It was a holding cell, and I was only there for a few hours. I chased after Reaver because he was smuggling explosives into enemy territory. They would've used his supply to build weapons and kill millions of innocent beings, T.J."

"You went rogue and almost started a war, and then those weapons would have been pointed at us!"

"Well I don't need to do research to know that the only reason you got your precious job as Assistant Principal was because your father handed it to you on a silver platter. What I haven't been able to work out is if it was just about nepotism or if his dementia had already kicked in."

Goddard should have anticipated the slap, but it caught him off-guard and sent him stumbling backward. "Ow! T.J., what the hell?!"

"Don't you dare bring my father into this!" Davenport snapped. "Father's deterioration was hell for my entire family. Don't you ever, _ever_ speak of him like that again!"

"You just slapped me!" was all Goddard could think to say, as he had trouble believing it, himself.

T.J. flexed her fingers. Her palm stung almost as much as Goddard's face. "You bloody-well deserved it for being such an arse. You should be ashamed of yourself for speaking of my father that way, after all he did for you." She whirled around, unable to face him any longer. After a few seconds of silence, she heard Goddard come to stand behind her.

"I'm sorry," he offered.

"Apology _not_ accepted. Did 'sorry' convince the UPP to let you keep your rank of captain?"

Goddard sighed. "No."

"Well 'sorry' won't work with me either. Not this time."

He brushed his fingers over the sore spot on his cheek again and winced. "I really am sorry. Look, you can hate me all you want, but we have to work together if we're ever going to get back to the ship, okay?" He turned to study the hillside, looking for the safest way to climb up.

Davenport turned back toward him. "I do not hate you, Commander."

"Yeah, you do. And you have every reason to." He brushed her off, still studying their surroundings, "I've accepted it; it's fine."

"No. You have it all wrong. I don't hate you. Really, I don't. What I hate is how the students respect you more than they do me. I hate that I feel so useless around you. I hate…" she took a deep breath, "I hate that I am not more like you."

Goddard's eyes went wide as he turned to face her again.

"I'm not courageous by any means," Davenport continued, "I have little real-world experience out in space. My knowledge is useless out here: this journey seems to prove me wrong at every turn. And I hate thinking that out of all of us I am probably going to be the one who doesn't make it home. You don't need me. The Starcademy bloody well doesn't need me. I don't have anyone waiting for my return. What is left of my family is completely dysfunctional. Hell, they were probably happy to hear that I disappeared!"

Seth frowned. "T.J., I..."

"So what reason do I have to keep fighting, hmm? Tell me, Seth, because I sure as hell don't know! And I hate—more than anything—I _hate_ not knowing." She turned away from him as her anger gave way to sadness and tears pricked at her eyes.

He slowly approached her. "Please don't cry, T.J."

"I am not crying," she lied as her voice wavered.

"Cards on the table: I don't hate you either."

"Yes you do. Why else would you go out of your way to pick fights with me?"

"I don't hate you. I... Because..." Goddard took a moment to gather his thoughts. He knew expressing regret undermined crew confidence, but right now a member of his crew needed to know that he cared. "I saw my life flash before my eyes once. When I was trapped under the ship."

Davenport sniffled and looked down at the ground. "What does that have to do with—?"

"I saw a ton of regrets: there were fights I started when I shouldn't have gotten involved, so many times I should have kept my mouth shut but didn't, and a lot of decisions I made that ended in disaster for me and for people I cared about. You don't want to be more like me, T.J. The universe doesn't need another me. I know from experience with my evil triplets, which is also a regret by the way. So trust me on this one."

Davenport mustered a small smile. "Someday you will have to tell me that entire story."

"Someday," Goddard agreed. "You told me what you hate. Do you want to know what I hate?"

"What?"

"I hate that the ship rejects me as part of her crew. I hate how we have to face so many challenges out here that not even command school and field training and the STARDOGS seemed to prepare me for. I hate that one of my decisions might steer the crew wrong, that we might lose one of the students because of me. I hide behind my fake title, and I hate that one of these days the crew won't need me. They're already doing so well on their own. I don't have anything to go back to either, except maybe jail as you pointed out. Everyone has demons, T.J. And everyone has fears. And it seems to me that our fears are very similar. We just have different ways of processing and dealing with them."

"It does seem that way."

"But the students that we were put in charge of, _they_ are worth fighting for. Their futures are worth fighting for. I know they're going to do extraordinary things when they get back home because they are already doing amazing things now. And they have families and friends who miss them, who are counting on us to bring them back safely. That is what we have to fight for: a surrogate family—maybe one we didn't ask for—but one that needs us and cares about us. The students do need you. And whether you admit it or not, you know you care about them and you need them too."

"You're right," Davenport conceded.

"You'll be okay, T.J. We'll be okay."

"You can't know that," she whispered.

"I can hope for it. If I do my best and you do yours, there's a good chance we'll be okay. Especially if you do your best. Because _your_ best is _the_ best. You never give anything less than one hundred and ten percent. And I am really, really sorry I said those things about you and your dad in the heat of the moment. I don't even know why I did it. That was way out of line, and I didn't mean a word I said. I know you earned your position at the Starcademy on your own merit. If I was a betting man—and I am—I'd say you probably had to work even harder than the other candidates to prove you could succeed _without_ your father's influence. Am I right?"

T.J. nodded. "Yes. You are."

"I really admired him, you know. Your dad was a great man and probably the greatest ally I've ever had. Aside from you, when we're not fighting."

T.J. sniffled. "Judging from Father's stories, you two had a bit of a rough start as well, but you grew on him."

"Maybe he was onto something," Goddard said with a wry smile.

Davenport narrowed her eyes and said pointedly, "Or maybe _that_ was 'after his dementia kicked in.' "

Goddard held up his hands in surrender. "You have every right to be upset."

"I suppose I do. Even so, I'm sorry I slapped you."

"Don't be. I deserved it."

She considered this, "Yes you really did, didn't you?"

Seth chuckled and gave T.J. a playful nudge. "Glad we can agree on something."

She narrowed her eyes in thought, processing something he had said moments before. "I'm your greatest ally?"

"When we're not fighting," he amended again. "But I wouldn't want to fight with anyone else but you, for what that's worth. And maybe someday when I stop putting my foot in it, you and I could at the very least be friends."

T.J. glanced down. "It appears as though you really have put your foot in it."

Seth followed her eyes and groaned when he found himself standing in a patch of some sort of animal excrement. T.J. failed to contain her laughter as he scraped his boot in the rocks and dirt.

He rolled his eyes, but he was glad to see her smiling. "Glad I could provide you with some entertainment."

Davenport opened her mouth to say something but changed her mind as she considered his earlier declaration. " 'At the very least,' you said."

"Huh?"

"You said you hoped we'd be friends 'at the very least.' " She bit her lip. "What about at the utmost?"

Goddard rubbed his neck and looked away: a nervous tic. "Well..." He looked up and noticed T.J.'s smile had completely disappeared, and on her face was a look of sheer terror as she stared past Goddard to look at something over his shoulder. He stiffened and turned slowly to come face-to-face with Reaver, the space pirate: world-class thief and cheat.

"Now here's something with which we've already become familiar," Goddard growled.

Reaver chuckled, pointing a tranquilizer gun at the pair of them. "It was bound to happen sooner or later. You didn't even notice I tagged your ship with a tracking device the last time we met. Sloppy, Seth. Very sloppy."

Goddard's blood was boiling, and he could feel the same fury radiating from Davenport even without turning to look at her. Instinctively, he spread his arms to keep her behind him, but it did nothing to stop her. His hand brushed against her thigh as she took a step forward to stand at his side.

T.J.'s voice was laced with venom as she addressed the space pirate, "What the hell do you want?"

"Well, I've got quite a wish list. For starters: your communications device, your ship, your commander here," Reaver paused and gave Davenport a once-over as a sickening smile crept across his face, "And you, too."

"You leave her alone!" Goddard barked, stepping forward to stand between Davenport and his rival.

T.J. remained behind Seth this time, but reached forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. It was meant to be a calming gesture but failed spectacularly as she and her composure began to shake.

Reaver smirked. "You know when someone tells me I can't have something, it only makes me want it more."

Goddard's eyes darted around the surrounding area for anywhere to hide, but the quarry was mostly open space. Unless there was a cave nearby—and he didn't have easy access to his compupad anymore to be sure—escape was unlikely. Of course, there was always one option better than standing still and waiting to be captured...

"I have a plan," Goddard whispered to T.J.

Davenport gulped. "Which would be?"

"Run!"

The two of them ran full-speed, zigzagging to avoid the tranquilizer darts that came whizzing past them. Davenport managed to keep up until she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder and stumbled to the ground with a yelp.

"T.J.!" Goddard knelt by her side and a look of horror washed over his face when he saw the tranquilizer sphere in her arm.

The feeling of vertigo was overwhelming as she fought to stand and wound up toppling over again and falling in the dirt. "Keep going," she instructed. "I will only slow you down."

"No way. I thought we determined I didn't have to follow your orders," he said as he gathered her in his arms. He was about to lift her bridal-style when he felt a stabbing pain near his spine. He fell to his knees, nearly collapsing on top of T.J. before reaching behind him and pulling out a tranq dart. "Son of a..." He examined it with almost a childlike curiosity before everything went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title** : Something Familiar: Chapter 2

 **Rating** : T - Nothing graphic. Still falls within the Fiction Ratings T parameters, "with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes." Rating may go up in later chapters.

 **Category** : gen, het

 **Pairings** : Davenport/Goddard

 **Summary** : Seth was unable to curb his wry tone even under duress, and T.J. found that fact reassuring. Certainly things couldn't be too bad if he was willing to banter with her. Or perhaps things _were_ really bad, and he was trying to keep her from panicking.

 **Something Familiar: Chapter 2**

Davenport's head was throbbing when she woke up. Her surroundings came into focus little by little, still swimming a bit in front of her. She found herself in a small dark room strapped to a contraption approximating an upright gurney, with her hands bound around the apparatus behind her. Panic set in, and she struggled to pull the restraints loose.

"Don't bother," a familiar grim voice echoed in the dingy cell. "The more you pull, the tighter they get."

T.J.'s eyes widened. "Seth?" She craned her neck and was able to see him tied up on a gurney next to her, angled so they were facing adjacent corners. She noticed the disks on his temples and the look of defeat on his face, gasping as she put the pieces together. "No."

She took a gulp of stale air into her lungs and tried to focus on her breathing. She stared at the wall in front of her, noticing the small triangular door and unbreakable crystal bars blocking their only way out. She moaned as a sudden wave of nausea washed over her.

"Just sit tight, T.J. The tranquilizers are probably still in your system. Are you going to be sick?"

It was an effort for her to gather her thoughts. She slurred a bit when she finally answered, "No. I'll be all right. But we need to get out of here."

"Luckily when it comes to prison cells, I'm well-read," Seth responded.

He was unable to curb his wry tone even under duress, and T.J. found that fact reassuring. Certainly things couldn't be too bad if he was willing to banter with her. Or perhaps things _were_ really bad, and he was trying to keep her from panicking.

He continued, "So far it seems like Reaver has stolen Luff and Spung technology for his own personal use. By the looks of things, he's also fixed that remote of his or plans to use something similar on us. And God knows what else he has in his armory at this point."

Oh. So. Really bad, then.

T.J. gulped. "But we _will_ make it out of here, right?"

"Oh, how wrong you are." Reaver's voice reverberated through the hallway, and his shadow loomed outside the door before he appeared behind the bars. "How are you two finding your accommodations? I gave you the best cell: the honeymoon suite, if you will. Thought you'd appreciate it."

"Let us go, you piece of filth!" T.J. snapped, attempting to conceal her fear with false bravado. If it worked for the commander...

Reaver laughed at her as he deactivated the power fence around the door: one he'd installed as an extra precaution. He entered the room, closed the door behind him, and immediately approached Davenport. She felt exposed; his ice blue eyes seemed to hypnotize her, render her immobile, and read her every thought at the same time.

"This one's not your usual type, Goddard," Reaver remarked casually as he appraised her. "But it's slim pickings out here. You take what you can get, I guess."

There was a dark, dangerous quality to Seth's voice as he growled, "Leave her alone."

Reaver shrugged, ignoring his protests. "I mean, I guess I get it. The bitch is feisty. Could be fun."

The space pirate leaned in closer. Davenport looked away, shuddering as she felt his hot breath on her neck. Then she saw an opportunity: she jerked her head back, clocking him square in the nose. Goddard, who had been clenching his jaw in rage, suddenly felt the need to stifle his laughter.

"Do you still like feisty?" Davenport challenged the space pirate, narrowing her eyes.

"I like it," Goddard offered boldly, turning to meet her eyes, "for what it's worth."

"You whore!" Reaver bellowed as he tended to his bleeding nose. "And to think, I was going to keep you all to myself. Maybe I'll just torture you as much as possible before I kill you. Aw, hell. Why not go with all of the above?"

"Over my dead body," Goddard snarled.

"Actually, the plan was to make you watch."

T.J. swallowed thickly; Reaver's threat made her feel even more nauseous than before.

"Don't you dare touch her!" Seth thundered. "You can do whatever you want with me; I don't care. Just leave my crew out of this!"

Reaver tsked. "No can do, old buddy. Here's the deal: you two tell me where your ship and kiddie crew are, I sell them all to the Spung, and then the three of us can have some fun. How does that sound?"

"You've got me where you want me, and you're going to torture me anyway. Why would I give up the rest of my crew in the process, you ass?!"

"Because I can do this."

The space pirate pressed a button on his wristlet, sending Goddard into a series of convulsions. T.J. winced and looked away as he cried out in pain. She couldn't bear watching him being tortured.

"Stop it!" she begged. "Stop it! Please!"

Reaver did make it stop with another quick flick of his fingers. Seth fell back against the gurney, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath.

T.J. panicked. "Seth, are you all right? Say something!"

Goddard swore through gritted teeth. It wasn't what she'd been expecting, but he was conscious, at least.

"Since you said 'please,' " Reaver's grin grew all the more menacing as he turned to leer at T.J. "How 'bout I show you what being with a real man is like."

"You are disgusting. And I would never—"

"Oh but you would." Reaver poised his fingers on his wristlet again. "I can make you do anything I want, remember? _Anything_."

Seth thrashed around; tugging at his restraints until the cables were so tight he could practically feel his heartbeat in his fingers. "Reaver, I will fucking kill you!"

The space pirate only grew more confident. "Classic Goddard. You always did have a god-awful poker face. It's like you're not even trying."

Seth's whole body jerked and he lashed out at him, "You hurt her in any way, and I will end you."

"I'd like to see you try. I really would." Reaver smirked, his fingers hovering over the buttons on the controls. "Which I why I'm going to do this..."

T.J. braced herself and squeezed her eyes shut as Reaver toggled several switches. She held her breath and heard him snarl in frustration as he continued jabbing at his device.

"What the hell? Why won't this work? You bitch! What did you do?" he fumed.

T.J. opened her eyes; aware that the disks on her head were emitting a high-pitched frequency but didn't seem to be doing much else. "I haven't done anything," she answered hotly. "Perhaps your shoddy craftsmanship is to blame."

Reaver backhanded her, and the blow was so intense that she saw stars. Seth called her name in a panic and craned his neck to get a look at her, grateful when she seemed to right herself, albeit with a groan and a bloodied lip.

The space pirate zeroed in on Davenport. "My equipment isn't the problem. It's you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play coy with me, lady. Whoever worked on you was good. No visible scarring."

T.J. shook her head. "I don't understand."

"The only way you could be immune to mechanisms like these is if you've got some sort of tech implant," he explained, tapping his temple. "Way out in these parts, it's usually through invasive surgery. You sound all snooty and posh. What kind of work did you have done since the last time I saw you? It was probably expensive."

"I have done nothing of the sort," T.J. protested.

"Let her go," Goddard begged, his tone now slightly defeated. "It's me you were after, and you've got me. Just let her go."

Reaver circled around both of them now, the smirk never leaving his face as he addressed Goddard. "No, no, no. Now my curiosity is piqued. Your woman is quite a novelty. I have a couple of contacts that owe me favors. They could help me see what makes her tick. Of course, after we're done slicing and dicing, she probably won't care about escaping anymore."

Davenport whimpered as she thought of her brain being poked and prodded in a filthy makeshift operating theater. Or perhaps Reaver would just kill her and dissect her in the very room in which she stood.

"But I wouldn't want her back when she's practically a vegetable." Reaver shrugged. "In my experience, the ones that don't fight back aren't as much fun. Might still be able to use her for something though."

T.J. managed to keep from vomiting as she tilted her chin up. She made an effort at appearing defiant, even though the tears welling in her eyes betrayed her. She wondered if she was even the slightest bit intimidating, or if her efforts were only encouraging Reaver to think of more horrible ways to break her.

"God, there are so many things I can't wait to do with you two," Reaver declared with a perverted sense of glee. "How about I leave you alone to discuss, hmm? I might be in a giving mood and let you guys vote on our first activity. I'll be back in a bit. Don't go anywhere."

The space pirate slammed and locked the door to their cell and reactivated the force field around it as he left. Davenport sagged against her restraints with a sniffle, and Goddard collapsed backward against the gurney and stared at the ceiling.

"I'm so sorry, T.J. God. I'm so, so sorry."

"Seth, this isn't—"

"My fault? It _is_ my fault. One hundred percent," he insisted. "I should have scanned the Christa for Reaver's tech. And I shouldn't have let him go when we were on that planet, I shouldn't have let him capture you, and I definitely shouldn't have shown him my hand just now."

"But you haven't told him anything."

"I didn't need to. He knows that you... that I..." He sighed and tried again. "The more I care about something, the harder Reaver will try to take or destroy it. And he'll do it just so he can watch me suffer. So I think it's obvious that I... I put you in a lot of danger."

T.J. shuddered at the memory of the tone he had used with the space pirate earlier. She'd never heard him so furious or seen him so protective. She turned to Seth and dared to ask, "And how much danger would you say that is?"

He cleared his throat. "I, uh, I'm not sure how I should answer that."

T.J. gave him a watery smile. "Were you to classify the amount of danger we have the potential to be in, would you be inclined to call it... the utmost?"

He blinked. "What?"

She spoke slowly and with purpose, fighting to steady her voice. "Well, there's 'the very least,' which we previously determined was actually a good amount. However, you may feel inclined to go with something more significant: like the utmost."

"The utmost?"

"Was that a question or your answer?"

He groaned in frustration. "We're in a prison cell waiting to be tortured. This isn't the time for subtext, T.J. Space hates subtext."

She rolled her eyes. "I am asking—"

"I know what you're asking! But you'd...you'd actually want that?"

"Yes," she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the universe.

"With me?"

Her tears finally fell as she nodded. Softer now, she answered, "Yes. Would you not want that with me?"

Her voice was so small; Seth thought she sounded more terrified of rejection than she did of being tortured. First he'd put her in danger, and then he'd made her cry. God, he needed to find some spectacular way to make this up to her later.

"Teej, there's no one I'd rather be in the utmost amount of danger with than you."

She forgot herself for a moment. How was it that Seth had made that sound romantic? A grin crept across her face without her permission, but the stinging of her split lip quickly brought her back to reality. She hissed and tasted blood.

Goddard cleared his throat and broke eye contact with her, glancing around the room for something, anything, to aid them. "Right. So. Escaping is a thing."

He felt something brush against his fingers. Somewhat surprised that his hands hadn't already gone numb, he looked behind him to find T.J. had curled her pinky around his, with their hands still bound behind their backs.

"How are you with knots?" she wondered.

"Not good. You?"

"At the risk of sounding like Mr. Bova, 'Let's find out together.' "


	3. Chapter 3

**Something Familiar: Chapter 3**

The crew gathered around outside the airlock. Harlan surveyed the immediate area for the teachers and shook his head, reporting, "Still no sign of them. They're an hour late. Where the heck are they?"

"Maybe they decided to stop for a picnic, and they lost track of time," Rosie suggested, causing the rest of her crewmates to give her skeptical looks. "What? It's possible!"

"Anything is possible," Thelma agreed, suddenly appearing at the Mercurian's side.

"But they're probably in some sort of trouble," Bova offered. "Miss Davenport was more pessimistic than I was about this whole mission. You heard her lecturing the commander before they left: she even named some ways to die that I didn't know existed."

"Yeah, what's with her lately?" Suzee wondered aloud. She shook her head and turned to Radu, inquiring, "Can you hear them? Are they nearby?"

The rest of the crew was silent as the Andromedan concentrated. "I don't think so. I don't hear anything that sounds like them, anyway. Thelma, can you scan?"

The android dutifully nodded before fiddling with the dial on the side of her helmet and examining the surrounding landscape, unblinking. "Their footprints wander off in that direction," she pointed east, "but I am unable to locate the current whereabouts of Commander Goddard or Miss Davenport. They are out of range."

"They probably wandered into a cave and got eaten by something," Bova surmised. "Like that thing that almost ate Harlan."

The Earther rolled his eyes. "Will you lay off that already? Let's get a search party going. Thelma, we'll follow you as far as you can reliably track them."

Thelma nodded. "Walk this way!" she announced. She moved in some odd combination of a prance, a shuffle, and a march, kicking up her feet ridiculously high as she led the way.

Rosie giggled. "What is she...?"

Harlan shook his head. "That's the last time I let her watch old Earth comedy with me."

* * *

Much to Seth's dismay, he didn't have a plan. So far, all he had was "escape," but had no idea how to do it. T.J. seemed to be more confident, all things considered. So while she worked to loosen the restraints, Seth allowed his thoughts to wander, hoping to formulate a strategy.

"So can you move things with your mind or something?" Seth mused, drolly. "Drink any rhomby saliva lately? That would be helpful."

T.J. pulled a face as she fiddled with the cables binding her wrists. "What are you on about?"

"Nothing. Bad joke, sorry." He cleared his throat. "But Reaver said something about a medical procedure?" He opted for a bit more levity adding, "I knew you were scary-smart, but I didn't think you were a cyborg."

T.J. rolled her eyes. "I do not have a cybernetic implant. Goodness, the only surgery I've ever had was an appendectomy at age eleven."

"So Reaver's tech is just bad?"

"Sadly, I'm afraid not. There may be another possibility." She hung her head in shame.

Seth studied her for a moment before gently asking, "What happened?"

She shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny as she confessed, "I conducted an experiment while you were in the healing chamber. It went awry, to say the least."

Goddard felt sick as he put the pieces together. "Please tell me you didn't use yourself as some sort of guinea pig."

T.J. took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly, attempting to calm her racing heart as she rationalized her actions. "I was a willing test subject in my own controlled sleep experiment, and—"

"It obviously _wasn't_ controlled if shit went sideways!"

"Seth, please!" T.J. turned toward the wall, hiding her face from him. He fell silent, and she continued, "I needed to do more for the students—to _be_ more for them. I wanted to learn everything I could as quickly as I could in order to better assist the crew in your absence."

Seth's heart sank. "But you do so much for all of us already."

"It didn't seem like enough." She sniffled. "You have more experience and practical knowledge than I do. And so when my research wasn't yielding the results I anticipated—when I wasn't absorbing information as quickly as I wanted—I took things a few steps further to accelerate the process."

Seth regarded her curiously. "Teej? What did you do?"

She closed her eyes, wishing she could melt into the floor as the truth spilled from her lips. "I hacked into the Infocore and directly downloaded the information I needed."

"Wait. You downloaded information...into where, exactly?" Goddard asked, already fearing the answer.

"Into my mind," T.J. admitted quietly. "Too much information, it would seem. The Christa used her morphing and healing capabilities so that I could handle the overload. I would have likely fried my brain otherwise. I'd have wound up comatose, lying next to you in the med lab. And I chose to do it anyway, knowing that was a possibility."

Seth was horrified. He had almost lost her, and he hadn't even realized. "Teej, why the hell would you put yourself at risk like that?!"

She flinched at his outburst and took a shaky breath. "The sacrifice I was making," she sighed, "I knew no one would ever understand." She turned toward him again, and unshed tears sparkled in her eyes as she justified her actions with a simple, "I thought the benefits outweighed the risks."

"You were risking your health: your life! T.J., nothing is worth that! No amount of knowledge could possibly come close."

"You're wrong!"

"What could possibly—?"

"Seth, it was a relief! It meant I didn't have to see your broken body whenever I closed my eyes or hear the echoes of your screams whenever I tried to sleep. Finally, I could think about _literally_ anything else. The information blotted out trauma and emotion. It replaced my fear, made me more confident, less vulnerable. I was more than capable; I was nearly unstoppable! And I didn't want that to go away. What good are my neuroses to the crew? What good is a fragile psyche? The benefits outweighed the risks," she repeated.

He realized how lost and desperate she must have felt in order to resort to such drastic measures. "Oh, T.J."

"I do not want your pity."

"Not pity. You said it earlier: More than anything, you hate not knowing. I get it now."

She gulped. Maybe he _did_ understand. Pushing that thought to one side, she contemplated, "It was typical for my efforts: I tried to help, but I made a mess of things. I don't know why I keep thinking it will be any different. There is always a chance my actions will contribute to a positive outcome, so I suppose I like to hope..."

"T.J., you're impressive just as you are, right now."

She rolled her eyes. "I'll let you cling to that illusion, shall I?"

"It's not an illusion."

" _De_ lusion, then."

"T.J., your presence on the Christa and the fact you're a part of my life at all is a gift. You matter so much, and I don't want you to think otherwise." He looked at her pointedly, adding, "And that experiment sounded dangerous as hell, so I hope you never try anything remotely like that ever again."

T.J. sighed. "Well. At least Reaver cannot control me now."

"Teej—"

"I can help."

"Whatever you're thinking, the answer is no. I literally just said I didn't want you orchestrating dangerous plans! Are you even listening —?"

"Yes, I am listening to you!" she insisted. "But I have an advantage this time—"

"Are you listening to _yourself_?" Seth shook his head. "Do you want me to say it? I'm scared, T.J. Okay? Reaver might not be able to control you, but he can control _me._ The only thing worse than being made to watch him hurt you," Seth's voice broke, "is if he forces me to hurt you."

Her heart ached as she watched his anger give way to sorrow. "I have already considered that possibility," T.J. confessed, "and I would forgive you."

"But I'd never forgive myself! I'm supposed to be protecting you, and I led you into danger."

"I never asked for your protection."

"You don't need to, and you shouldn't have to! Teej, please don't argue with me now. Not about this. I know you're trying to be brave, but you don't know what we're up against. Right now, you should be petrified."

In trying to develop an escape plan, T.J. was forced to consider her fate: every scenario, good and bad. She figured that if she mentally prepared herself, maybe she'd have a fighting chance. She operated best when she was methodical, after all. Lately, however, it seemed she didn't have much of a choice.

T.J. didn't want to admit it, but she feared she was still experiencing residual effects from her experiment. Over the past few months, she'd been finding it easier to multitask and problem-solve, almost as if her brain could run several processes in the background while she went about her daily activities. But she sometimes became lost in these thoughts, and they grew to be more intrusive: hypotheses, facts and figures, cause/effect, if/then, A to B, A to C to D, and on and on and on... She'd always been borderline obsessive-compulsive, but this was different. And she was too embarrassed and too scared to tell anyone.

"I assure you, I am quite terrified," she confessed. "But I cannot let my fear stop me. The way I see it, we do have an advantage, and we need to use it," T.J. thought aloud. "You know Reaver—"

"And he knows me. How does that help?"

"But he does not know me," she clarified. "For example, did you know that I am apparently extremely skilled with knots?"

Seth's eyes went wide as he turned as best he could to look behind him at her hands. T.J. had already loosened the Castordenium cable enough to be able to slip her hands through at the next opportunity.

"How did you...?"

Her wry smile was suspiciously similar to the one he frequently used. "Would you believe I'm well-read?" she quipped.

He shook his head in awe and then winced and swore as she moved to undo his bindings.

"Goodness, Seth! You've made a mess of these!"

"I know, I know. 'The more you pull, the tighter they get' and I wasn't thinking."

She swallowed down her fear and gained some confidence from her newfound ability as she continued, "Lucky for us, it appears I am very good at solving puzzles with my hands literally tied behind my back."

Seth smiled proudly. "I told you that you're impressive. Confidence looks good on you, T.J."

She blushed at the compliment and hoped he wouldn't put the pieces together. Though if she were to continue discovering new skillsets as they plotted their escape, she feared he might catch on fairly quickly.

"I figure now is a good as time as any to channel my anxiety into something constructive and consider our viable options," she deflected. If she lost focus...Seth had already, albeit unknowingly, seen her in such a state a few times already. Her concentration was slipping, but she couldn't afford to be deadweight now.

Logic, adrenaline, false bravado, and perhaps a little extra boost from the Christa: that was how she was going to survive this. She had to be the voice of reason if Seth was going to be a defeatist mess this time around. Unfortunately for her, there was a fine line between the two. Planning led to possibilities, to positives, to hope; or to negatives, to fear... T.J. squeezed her eyes shut and tried to breathe slowly in an effort to calm both her racing heart and racing thoughts.

Seth was about to say something when the sound of footfalls echoed down the corridor. T.J. stopped fussing with the cables, and she and Seth resumed their earlier positions: upright with their backs flush against the gurneys to give the illusion of being entirely restrained.

"So, how are we doing?" Reaver wondered from the hallway. He stood at ease with his hands behind his back, and his silhouette was slightly distorted by the crystal bars. "You manage to work through those knots yet?" He exaggerated a frown and made a show of checking the time on his device. "I'm disappointed. I thought you'd be done with the restraints. Figured you'd be working on the door by now. I could come back later," Reaver offered with a menacing grin. "But I'm done waiting. I'm more of an instant gratification kinda guy."

"Who do you want to play with first?" a low voice purred from the shadows.

"Ubi," Seth realized as the telemorph crept into the dim lighting. "I'm curious, do you like being Reaver's little pet?"

Ubi's sadistic laughter echoed throughout the space as he teleported into the cell, in front of T.J. She yelped and freed her hands to try to get a punch in, but the telemorph's reflexes were quicker. He caught her about the wrists before twisting her arms behind her back.

"Get off of me, you demented Cheshire cat!" T.J. spat.

Ubi flashed his claws and made a show of running one along her chin and down her neck. "I think you'll find that one false move, and your blood will be all over the floor. I have no issue with killing you."

"You might not have a problem with it, but I do," Reaver argued. "I want her alive."

Ubi's shoulders sagged, and he growled in disappointment.

"Please let her go," Seth implored. "You've got me. I'll give you anything you want if you promise to release her and leave my crew alone."

Reaver smirked and cocked his head to the side, giving Ubi direction. "You know what to do."

T.J. called for Seth and struggled to break free, but Ubi disappeared, taking her with him.

"Where the hell did he go with her?! Tell me!" Seth barked.

"She's still on the ship. Don't worry." Reaver grinned. "I'll take _good_ care of her."

* * *

Bova looked down into the quarry, noticing the familiar pop of red from the two space packs that Davenport and Goddard had left behind. "That's not promising."

"Hey, it's okay," Harlan reassured the group. "We're on the right track. And so what? They left their stuff here. It doesn't mean anything bad happened."

Bova gave the Earther a skeptical look. "Well it can't mean anything good happened."

Harlan sidestepped his way down the steep hill, occasionally sliding as he lost traction and the rocks crumbled under his boots. He skidded the last few feet and examined the contents of his leaders' kits.

"Looks like all their stuff is still here," he reported as the others carefully descended the hill to join him.

Thelma, meanwhile, scanned the immediate area and reported, "I am able to make out some footprints in the dirt that appear to have been left by Commander Goddard and Miss Davenport. They circle around this area and then head off in that direction." Thelma pointed. "But there is another set of tracks approaching where Commander Goddard and Miss Davenport left their survival kits."

Suzee crouched down to get a better look and confirmed, "Shoe prints. Different from theirs. Someone else was here."

Radu had wandered farther from the group. He didn't hear anything, but he spotted something glinting amongst the rocks. "Hey, guys?"

The others walked over to where the Andromedan was standing. Thelma bent down to pick up the object of interest and held it up for all to see.

"A tranquilizer sphere," Thelma confirmed.

"That's not good," Harlan groaned. "Aw man, that is the opposite of good."

"Bad?" Bova supplied.


	4. Chapter 4

**Something Familiar: Chapter 4**

Teleporting made T.J. nauseous. Seth, Reaver, and the prison cell faded and were replaced with what appeared to be living quarters that had been neglected for quite some time. T.J. stumbled over her own feet when Ubi deposited her in the room, as her legs were still partially bound. She landed on her side on the unforgiving floor panels and miraculously avoided hitting her head on the small bedside table nearby.

"Be right back," Ubi declared with a snarl. He kept his word, vanishing only to reappear seconds later with Reaver. The space pirate was more adept at traveling via teleport, and the jump didn't seem to faze him at all.

"Ubi, if you'd give us some privacy?" Reaver requested. "Maybe go check on our other guest."

The telemorph nodded and left again, as quickly as he had come. Reaver surprised T.J. by hauling her to her feet. She stared him down, fighting back the overwhelming fear blooming in her chest as she noted the ease with which he lifted her.

"One would think you wouldn't need any doors at all with the way your friend chauffeurs you around your own ship," T.J. jibed.

"Nah, I can't completely rely on Ubi. Gotta have some autonomy. Anyway, these are the guest quarters," Reaver explained, spinning around as if to show off the room. "You like them? Haven't been able to get a maid in for a while. Sorry about that."

T.J. narrowed her eyes. "The door locks from the outside."

"Oh, so you noticed that? I could fix that if I wanted to. But I can't have you going anywhere. Not before we have a little chat."

"I do not believe we have anything to discuss," T.J. debated, standing up to her full height.

Reaver casually pulled up a chair to sit across from her. "And I respectfully disagree."

"Respect?" T.J. all but laughed as she looked down at him. "When did you add that word to your vocabulary?"

Reaver grinned, amused. "You're so much like him, you know."

"The commander and I have been working together for quite some time, so it would stand to reason—"

"Nah, not Goddard." Reaver grinned menacingly. "Your father."

T.J.'s breath hitched, and her horrified expression confirmed what Reaver already knew.

"Yeah, that's right. I figured out who you are: James Davenport's daughter. Goddard and I have quite a history. We go all the way back to the Starcademy, and I knew your dad. My condolences, by the way. Wonder how he would feel about you parading around the galaxy with his prized-student-gone-rogue."

"My father would be proud of us," T.J. insisted immediately.

"Yeah, you and Seth are just two peas in a pod now, aren'tcha? Let me tell you something though: your knight in shining armor isn't all he's cracked up to be. The stories I could tell you..." Reaver mused.

"You're a liar, a thief, and a cheat," T.J. spat. "Why should I believe a word you say?"

"How much do you really know about Goddard? What has he offered up about his past, hmm?"

The thought gave T.J. pause, and her hesitation only served to please the space pirate. Ironic that the knowledge she most desperately craved was knowledge she couldn't easily access via a computer. She sank down to sit on the edge of the bed, secretly happy to be off her feet even though the arrangement put her in a vulnerable position. T.J. was still on high alert, studying Reaver and trying to anticipate his next move: looking for tells, facial tics, changes in posture...anything that she could use to her advantage.

"I feel sorry for him, in a way," Reaver continued, casually. "With the number of crewmates he's lost? No wonder he's a mess. Ubi and I, on the other hand, have been on our own for a long time. We've been doing really well for ourselves in the vacuum of space." He paused. "You could stay with us, if you wanted."

"You must be daft!" T.J. made a face in disgust. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"Because if you join my crew, I'll let Goddard go."

T.J. shook her head. "You're bluffing."

"You're too smart for him. Anyone can see that. I'm trying to save you from making a huge mistake. You know what I've learned being out here?"

"If you are going to monologue, you'd better make it interesting," T.J. snapped. "I am finding you rather dull."

Reaver ignored her and instead offered his explanation with a smug smile as he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "What I do is a way of life. What will you do once your food supply and fuel run out on that ship of yours? Maybe a little petty theft? Maybe run some odd jobs just to get a few credits to scrape by? That's how I started out. What I do isn't about being some sort of villain—"

"I beg to differ."

He leaned forward in his seat, locking eyes with her. "What I do is about survival," he emphasized.

T.J. recalled a moment from the start of their journey when Seth had said the same thing: "This isn't about people's feelings, Miss Davenport. It's about survival." And the bad blood between Reaver and Seth was certainly "a lot worse than bad." But no, she couldn't draw comparisons between the two men. They were nothing alike...were they? Before she could stop herself, her brain was on overdrive again: grasping at straws and drawing parallels and filling in blanks where there were unknowns, trying to make sense of all the possibilities for how and why Seth and Reaver had ended up this way. Assumptions, deductions...

"No!" she shouted over the mental noise, screwing her eyes shut.

Reaver cocked his head to the side in consideration. "You okay there, darlin'?"

She managed a weak protest of "Do not call me that" as she got her wits about her. Maybe she didn't have as much of an advantage as she initially thought.

Something dangerous glinted in Reaver's eyes. "I'm gonna say something to you I've never said to anyone before, so listen up."

T.J. glowered. "Fine. You have my attention."

"I was wrong."

"About?"

"Last time we met, I said I was too smart for you. But the truth is you're too smart for me. I mean, you're definitely too smart for Goddard. No question there. But here's the thing: if you stick with me, you'll survive. And you want to be a survivor, don't you? You have what it takes. But if you stick with Goddard? You've got maybe a fifty-fifty chance of making it home in one piece." Reaver leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling as he mused, "Bet he's already gotten himself and the kids into all sorts of trouble. You've probably had lots of close calls and made a lot of enemies along the way. I'm right, aren't I?"

T.J. said nothing. She tried her best to remain pokerfaced and study the space pirate. Something about the way he was so casually striking up conversation while insulting the commander was...off. And T.J. was not about to give him the satisfaction of breaking her or swaying her.

"From what I've seen, you're smart, feisty, and a force to be reckoned with. And, hell, I barely even know you. Wonder how long it took for Seth to realize the same. He takes you for granted, doesn't he? I, on the other hand, would really hate to see anything happen to you."

"Neither flattery nor threats will get you anywhere with me," T.J. fired back.

"Then what will?" Reaver wondered. "I'd genuinely like to know."

"Not being manhandled, for one thing," she snapped. "Not hurting the people I care about is another. And a little thing called respect, which you still haven't seemed to grasp, regardless of how you throw the word around."

"And does Goddard respect you? Does he even consider your thoughts and feelings when it comes to your priorities like keeping your crew safe? Judging by the rather explosive argument you had earlier—"

T.J. gulped. "You heard us?"

"Shit, I'm surprised no one else did! Just a bit of friendly advice: If you want to keep your secrets safe, don't yell about them. Watching you slap Seth, though? Not gonna lie, that made my day!"

T.J. merely offered a scowl.

"Back to the point: I'm offering you safe passage home, back to the Sol System. I could probably get you back in half the time it would take for your junk heap of a ship to make it—your shields are already toast, by the way; I don't know if you realized that—and Ubi and I will be your personal security detail. All you have to do is help me out with a few things every now and then. I hear you're amazing with computers." He leered at her. "And you probably have a talent for some other things as well, if Goddard's so smitten."

"You are disgusting!"

"Me? Really? What about him? I know him better than you do. Hate to break it to you, but he's only thinking about one thing."

"I hardly think you, of all people, know how to treat a woman." T.J. fired back.

"I'll certainly make an effort for you."

"No thank you. You are most definitely not my type."

"What is your type, anyway? Rogue former STARDOG? Because I've got news for you: I tick those boxes."

"The way I understand it, you did not even graduate from the Starcademy. You are going to have to do better than lie about your credentials to win me over."

"Well now you've given me hope that I _can_ win you over. That's progress. I knew you'd warm up to me."

"My crew needs me!" T.J. blurted out, and for the first time she believed that. "My crew," she said again, narrowing her eyes in determination, "needs me."

"Yeah, you're right. They do." Reaver agreed easily. "But do they think so? Do they respect you? Do they really care if you're there for them or not? Or do they blatantly ignore your instructions? They're a mess, and you're screaming into the void around them, aren'tcha? They need someone like you, but they don't realize it and they don't care to. Don't let them weight you down. Don't let them be the cause of your suffering. Don't let them be what gets you killed out here. Under Goddard's leadership, those kids don't know what the hell they're doing."

"That is not true. They are all very capable—"

"You're banking on the skills of inexperienced asshole children!" Reaver insisted. He stood and began pacing around the room, as if performing for an audience. T.J. supposed she was the lone spectator for this one-man show. But the way he kept projecting his voice...

"Those kids _will_ get you killed. You've made some serious enemies out here: a lot of powerful Spung are pretty pissed off at you guys," Reaver chuckled, "I've seen some of their weird BOLOs for your crew. Attempting to assassinate a decorated war veteran and later holding him hostage? Kidnapping one of the royals and then assisting her in acts of treason? Blasting a squadron of their best soldiers out of the sky? Oh yeah, Goddard's doing a great job of keeping you all safe, making friends, and influencing people."

T.J. gulped. "When you list it all like that, it does sound rather..."

"Impressive in a train wreck kinda way."

While Reaver may have had a point when listing off a handful of the crew's missteps, he still failed to sow the seeds of doubt. T.J. knew this wasn't about her or the kids. It was about Seth. That's when she realized she wasn't his only audience. She couldn't be. Not with the tactics Reaver was using. As the space pirate insulted the absent "inept kiddie crew," he continued moving about the room, almost as if he'd forgotten T.J. was even there. He gestured emphatically and raised his voice, and why the hell would he keep staring at the damn ceiling unless he was addressing someone else, and…?

"Your pilot is...what? Eighteen at most?" Reaver continued. "It's probably his first time flying any kind of spacecraft outside a video game. And your medical officer? I'd like to see that little sunburnt Kewpie doll perform life saving surgery. You can put your life in their hands, but should you? Up until now, you haven't had a choice."

"But now you're giving me one," T.J. realized, aiming to keep Reaver talking. "Why would you do that? Why do you care? What do you have to gain?"

"If you stick with me? I get a computer genius, and you get some intelligent conversation and safe passage home." He shrugged as he stared up at the ceiling. "Win, win."

His ego would be his downfall. T.J. was sure of that now. She challenged him, "And how would you guarantee my safety? What do you have to offer?"

Reaver sneered. "See this scar?" He pointed to the top of his head. "Much like you, I'm immune to the control disks as well as several other neurological weapons, so don't get any ideas there. You'd be wasting your time on me like I'd be wasting my time on you. Speaking of..."

T.J. closed her eyes and winced as Reaver removed the disks from her temples. His fingers were calloused, but his touch was surprisingly gentle, especially considering...

"I've had some strength augmentation as well," he added, pocketing the disks. "Don't know if your little Andromedan kid told you, but I gave him a run for his money during our tussle when we first met. Anyone who tries to go hand-to-hand with me would get a hell of a beating. I don't want to give all my secrets away, mind you. But body modification is a hell of a thing. Of course, you know about that."

"I told you earlier, I do not know what you are talking about. I have not had any of the sort of surgeries you are describing," T.J. reiterated. And that was how she had the advantage: while Reaver was busy bragging about the effects of the surgeries he'd had, he couldn't figure out what made T.J. different. And how _did_ he know she was any different from the first time they'd met? But she understood his thought processes, in a way. She'd just admitted to Seth that she'd felt the need to " _be_ more" for the students, which is what prompted her to investigate the merits of accelerated sleep research. Maybe she could get Reaver's sympathy without giving herself away somehow? She'd be walking a fine line, of course.

"There's so much people can do nowadays to be better, stronger, smarter," Reaver continued. "Like I said, I'm a survivor. Someone dares to call me weak? I improve myself. I evolve. I become better."

T.J. thought back to the last time the crew had encountered Reaver. What had they said to him? How had they gotten the upperhand? Many factors contributed to Reaver's decision to flee the Christa. He'd gone after Harlan and tripped over a handful of pieces from an old Earth game, of all things, breaking his expensive mind control equipment in the process. And then Seth had gotten the drop on him while T.J. distracted him with some admittedly weak jabs at his intelligence. The engine lubricant equivalent of the old tar and feather trick was a little over the top and served no real purpose other than to humiliate him and make a mess.

But wait.

Even before all that, when the crew was struggling to break free of Reaver's control, it was Suzee who had fought him, trying to use his own tactics against him as she attempted to take control of his body.

Upon closer examination, Reaver's scar was even more pronounced now. He'd had more work done since their first encounter, T.J. was sure of it. She put the pieces together, and she was working off of assumptions at this point, but it was something.

Seth was either listening, watching, or both. Reaver wasn't able to read T.J. as well as he'd hoped. He should have figured out "what made her tick" as he'd put it earlier, if there had been some sort of audio surveillance in the prison cell. So it was one-way communication, then. A bit backwards, but if this is how Reaver operated, she could see it suiting his needs. He'd had some sort of surgery after their last encounter to ensure that the next time they met, he'd be able to best them...or so he thought. T.J. had a clue as to what it was, and frankly, it was terrifying: the way his eyes had flashed an ice blue when he stared her down in the prison cell earlier and the feeling of vulnerability she'd felt as a result added up to one thing that would make sense.

Reaver approached her again. She hoped he'd sit down across from her, but instead he leaned in closer, placing a hand on either side of her on the bed and bracketing her body. He was a breath away now as he whispered dangerously, "I become better. I become more. And then do you know what I do? I make sure those same people—the ones who called me weak—never underestimate me again. Do you think I'm weak, Theresa James Davenport?"

It was a trap: if she said yes, he'd likely harm her in some way. If she said no, she'd be playing right into his hand, and Seth would hear everything.

 _Logic, adrenaline, false bravado, and perhaps a little extra boost from the Christa: that was how she was going to survive this._

"I cannot argue with the results of modern medicine and technology," she began. "Obviously, you are not weak, not with your strength augmentation."

Reaver preened a bit, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"You're not weak," T.J. repeated matter-of-factly. Best not to give Reaver the satisfaction of thinking she was paying him a compliment. "You are simply flying blind."

He cocked his head to the side, and his eyes flashed dangerously as T.J. narrowed hers. "How do you mean?"

"Just that you simply cannot figure me out. You've never met anyone like me, and you…" T.J. trailed off as another realization socked her in the gut.

He'd isolated her and tried to get her to tell him what made her different. The next step, if she refused, would likely be more invasive. He'd stated as much back in the prison cell. If she was agreeable, he'd likely either persuade or force her to stay with him. Best to have her as an ally if he wasn't able to make the "necessary modifications" to himself in order to think like her.

That was one possibility.

If Reaver attempted to directly download information into his brain, one of two things would happen: he either wouldn't be able to handle the data overload, or the procedures he'd already undergone would compensate, and he'd come out of the ordeal smarter and more powerful than ever.

T.J. couldn't risk tricking him into doing it if there was even a chance he'd survive the process to benefit from it.

"What happened to me was an accident, the conditions of which cannot be replicated," T.J. told him. "You have me captured, and I am of no threat to you. I am simply a former school administrator who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time during several critical moments in my life."

Reaver scoffed, finally pushing himself off the bed and out of T.J.'s personal space. "If that's the case, why the hell does Goddard care about you so much?"

"I do not know that he really does," T.J. said, and as the lie came out of her mouth, her heart sank. Because to an extent, she didn't know why he cared either. There were tears in her eyes when she said, "It was an accident I even ended up on our ship in the first place. He shouldn't care. I am nothing special."

* * *

Goddard hung his head and clenched his jaw, willing himself not to cry. Reaver might not need his little device to control T.J. after all. He hoped, he prayed, that T.J. would be her own voice of reason and that the half-cocked space pirate wouldn't manage to break her resolve. She was the logical one. She was the cautious one. Of the two of them, she was the strongest: something he would only admit to her and in fact had trouble admitting to himself.

But Reaver knew that. Of course that's why he decided to separate them. That's why he was trying to appeal to T.J.'s survival instincts. And that's definitely why he decided to activate the com system so Seth could hear their entire conversation.

"Very interesting," Ubi mused from the corridor as he studied Seth's reactions.

Goddard turned his head away. "Shut up."

* * *

"But you care about Goddard," Reaver declared. "I don't get it. You have so much faith in him."

When T.J. looked back up, there was a determination in her eyes as she said very clearly for anyone who might be listening, "The utmost."

"Now that's just pathetic. I thought you'd be smarter than that." Reaver shook his head. "Don't flinch."

"Don't what?"

In one swift motion, he took a laser blade from his belt, switched it on, and expertly sliced through the restraints at T.J.'s ankles. She yelped but managed not to move as the cables fell to the floor. Her boots were singed, but that was the extent of the damage. She cataloged Reaver's heightened reflexes as another possible enhancement, perhaps acquired as a direct result of their last encounter.

"Why would you cut through my restraints?" she wondered, enunciating just enough so that Seth could hopefully hear this new development but not so much that it sounded unnatural. "And how? The cable…"

Reaver shrugged. "Honestly? I was starting to feel sorry for you. Plus, it's not like you can go anywhere anyway. 'The door locks from the outside,' remember? As for how? You're asking a man with a cybernetic implant how he does something 'impossible.' Think about that for a minute."

T.J. was left sitting on the bed, stunned, as Reaver walked over to the door. She watched as he entered a passcode into the device on his wrist, and heard the door unlock. By the time she was on her feet, Reaver was on the other side of the door and keying in the code for the mechanism to lock once more.

"Actually, it locks and unlocks from wherever I need it to," he corrected her.

T.J. ran to the door as Reaver strode away whistling "Entrance of the Gladiators." She watched him turn the corner, and she examined the surrounding corridor through the tiny square window at eye level. T.J. gripped the crystal bars and craned her neck to look at the keypad outside the room. This one was primitive in design, at least, with twelve touchpoints arranged in four rows of three. She squinted and examined the buttons in the dim lighting, looking for signs of wear on them, trying to get a hint of what the combination might be. It was the same to lock and unlock the door—likely Reaver's own personal access code—for both functions. At least, the buttons had made the same sounds when he'd keyed them in on his device and on the door…

The sounds…

They didn't line up with any tune T.J. was familiar with, but each key emitted a different frequency when pressed. If she could figure out the sound pattern, she'd be able to figure out the keycode as well. The entire system was fairly primitive, all things considered. Though T.J. wondered how familiar with old technology many of his "guests" were.

"I suppose he chooses to invest his credits in modifying himself rather than maintaining his ship," T.J. noted aloud. She nodded in satisfaction and continued studying the keypad as best she could from inside the room, telling herself, "Think of it as a puzzle to be solved."


End file.
